Snow Day
by blackwolfmajik
Summary: King Alistair is run into by an old friend...


**Rating:** _T for Teen!_

 **Characters:** _Alistiar/F!Mage_

 **Summary:** _King Alistair is run into by an old friend._

 **Soundtrack:** _"The Axe/Perfect" - 'Dexter' Soundtrack S4 - Daniel Licht_

 **Disclaimer!:** _it's so standard, you can all chant to it – "Bioware Owns All!"_

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 **Snow Day**

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 _Andraste's flaming knickers, where is he?_

Alistair ground his teeth as he searched another empty hallway for his quarry, trying not to think about how he was most likely lost now as well.

 _Years of being king and this damn castle still has places I've never seen. Maybe I should have brought a ball of yarn to help me find my way back..._

Spotting a guard slouching against a wall, Alistair admitted defeat and changed course to ask for help.

"Oy," he snapped as the soldier practically jumped out of her armor. "Have you seen—"

A sudden peal of familiar laughter echoed from down the hall, answering the King's question before he had to ask.

The guard looked guilty, making Alistair immediately suspicious. Something was _Going On_ , and he was sure he probably wouldn't like it.

It was probably something expensive on top of it all.

 _Maker's breath, I hope that boy hasn't started another nug rescue…_

Stalking angrily down the hall, a litany of reprimands circled through his mind until something squelched under his boots.

Almost afraid to look, Alistair dropped his gaze.

 _What the…_

Distracted by the puzzling sight of a sodden Orlesian carpet, Alistair failed to realize that he was in imminent danger.

A strange sliding noise, accompanied by more laughter, ended up being his only warning before a large _Something_ shot out of the stairwell to his left.

Taken completely by surprise, Alistair's rusty instincts had no chance to prepare before he was knocked flat onto his back. Choking from the impact and weight that settled firmly on his chest, the monarch blinked up at his assailant.

Multiple assailants.

Who were _giggling_.

The Hero of Ferelden was flushed with exhilaration, her grey eyes mirroring his own surprise. Wild and free of its usual braids, her dark hair tickled his nose as she hovered over him. Suddenly conscious that it was _her_ face bare inches away from his, Alistair froze. Duty may have forced him to choose Ferelden over love, but some things were never forgotten, no matter how many years passed.

Like how she had moaned his name the last time she was on top of him...

A snickering crown prince peeked over her shoulder, shattering the breathless stalemate.

"You should see your face, Father! You're all red!"

Blushing harder, Alistair's gaze jerked to his son, grateful for the distraction. "What is the meaning of this? I've been looking for you all day!"

Hazel eyes dropped bashfully, but the King wasn't fooled. "It was just a bit of fun…"

"Fun? What sort of fun makes you try to kill your father and…and...why is my carpet soaking me through?"

The mage choked on a laugh, drawing the monarch's frustrated glare. "Well…I sort of…"

"She made it snow inside the castle! You should see it, Father! And she was teaching me how to sled-"

"Snow?"

"The prince was…very persuasive."

"The prince should be in his _lessons_."

"Father," the boy whined, looking forlorn.

"Don't bother, young man. I invented that look," inwardly Alistair was melting as fast as the ice scattered around them.

By the knowing glance in the mage's eye, she knew it as well.

"Am I going to have to call the guard? Or will you two troublemakers let me up before I freeze to the floor?"

The prince grinned as he ran to retrieve the battered shield involved in the sledding assault on the king.

The Hero didn't move.

"Uh…"

"Well…I _would_ , but…"

"Oh!" Alistair flushed scarlet again and snatched his hands from where they had clasped her shoulders. Somehow.

When the slender mage lifted off of his chest, the king felt suddenly much colder than he could have imagined.

Gaining his feet, Alistair brushed ineffectively at his sodden leggings, attempting to distract himself from the ghostly touch of her fingers on his skin.

 _Maker, I haven't blushed like this in years. It's always her damn fault._

"I...I didn't know you were back in Denerim," he stammered.

"I just arrived last night, but I am leaving in the morning. I am on my way to speak with the Daelish."

"The elves?"

She nodded, picking a few stubborn ice crystals out of her damp hair. "I heard of a ritual that might help against the taint-"

"Taint? What's that?"

Alistair jumped, having forgotten his heir was within ear-shot. "Nothing you have to worry about now, get on your way to Lord Varys!"

"Father!"

"Now! And no detours through the kennels this time, you go straight on to the library!"

After the boy had dragged his feet away, Alistair turned back to see the mage looking at him oddly.

"You've changed," she said quietly.

"We all have."

Her smile was tinged with sadness as she nodded. "Still. You look...well."

"Do I?" he stood taller, puffing out his chest dramatically. "It's the lighting, I spent half the treasury to make sure I look good for the masses."

"Money well spent," she played along, letting him draw her from the melancholy mood.

"Speaking of," Alistair swallowed hard before continuing. "I believe I've come up with a suitable penance for your earlier...assault."

"Oh?" Her suspicious glance scrunched up the freckles on her nose just like he remembered. "What would that be?"

"Could you…make it snow in the council chamber? I swear these nobles could use some loosening up..."

Laughter echoed like tinkling bells in the hallway, making Alistair's heart ache even more.

"And give them another reason to hate mages?"

"Well, I think the King can probably pardon you for such a prank. He seems like a reasonable guy..."

Alistair saw a flicker of pain in her grey eyes and he cursed himself for an idiot. What he had done to her after the Landsmeet had been anything but reasonable.

 _She made me king, destroying any chance we could be together. She_ had _to have known what it would cost. The only question is: would we have done things differently if we had really known the full extent of the price..._

The Hero was still looking at him and he nearly chewed his tongue off with the effort not to spill his heart out onto the floor at her feet.

For a long time she stood watching him, thoughts hidden behind the polite mask she had perfected for the Templars who had ruled her Fate for so long.

"Well, maybe I can manage a small flurry..."

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 _ **AN:** I've had this one in my coffer for a while, I just never pushed it to post. I had the image of Alistair trying to be the good king/father and then being confronted with just what he gave up to get it. I still haven't forgiven him for dumping my mage, and that was YEARS ago since I played DAO. This little story was a bit of therapy._

 _The only reason this is T for Teen is the one line about...well..._ positions _..._ _I wanted to be safer than sorry._


End file.
